


Red Vs Blue Angst War 2017 Oneshot Collection

by NurseMedusa



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Killing, Angst, Angst War 2017, F/M, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, I AM THE ANGST LORD, I'm Sorry, M/M, Misleading Characters, Misunderstandings, Multi, Oops, PTSD, Shootouts, Slow and painful death, Violence, War, general sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseMedusa/pseuds/NurseMedusa
Summary: Oneshots both from prompts and ideas of my own creation for the 2017 RvB Angst War





	1. No One Needs a Grif

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RiaTheDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/gifts).



> These are my first RvB fics, I apologize in advance.

“So, let me get this straight,” Simmons started, looking around the room, “you guys don’t have a Grif?” Gene looked over at him.

“What’s a Grif?” The other maroon soldier was clearly confused.

“Well, I mean, on your team he probably wouldn’t be named Grif,” Simmons tried to explain, “but, you know, orange guy, incredibly lazy, dumps his work on literally everyone and anyone else,” he paused, “ringing any bells?” Gene thought about it for a moment.

“Sounds like the type of guy who’d manage to get killed during basic or something,” he responded, “look, Simmons, let me tell you something,” Simmons looked up, wondering what he might say, “you seem to be pretty heartbroken over this Grif guy,” the other soldier was then reduced to a sputtering mess.

“What?  Pfft, of course not, why would I miss him?  He’s a lazy fatass sack of shit,” Gene was not convinced.

“You were sleep-talking about him,” all the sputtering stopped, leaving the two in a moment of silence.  Gene sighed, placing a hand on Simmons’ shoulder. “Whatever he did, it’s not worth the attention you give to him, think about it, what has he ever done for you?” Gene gestured around at the base. “And look at this place!  We’re two identical troops of sim soldiers, both at the same point, except we don’t have anyone dressed in orange,” Gene’s blue-tinted visor stared Simmons down, “don’t you see?  Clearly, no one needs a Grif.” Simmons shoved Gene’s hand off his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, alright, whatever,” he turned around and began to walk away, “I’m gonna go see what the others are up to,” Gene walked in front of him, blocking the doorway.

“I see, you’re in denial,” Simmons backed up a few steps, trying to gain back his personal space, “just humor me for a minute here, think about everything you’ve done for him,” the surgery, the cliff, the tens of thousands of times he hasn’t ratted Grif out to Sarge for sleeping on the job, “and when has he ever returned the favor?” Simmons stared down at the ground, trying to ignore Gene.

“You...you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gene sighed again.

“You still don’t get it, do you Simmons?”

“Don’t get what?” He was starting to get defensive, surprising himself.  Why get all defensive over Grif?

“He used you and then left you, abandoning anything you two might’ve had together,” Gene stated, “from the way you talk about this guy, I doubt he was killed, face the facts, this ‘Grif’ is just a low-life, good-for-nothing deserter,” Simmons backed up further, “no one needs a Grif.” Simmons was silent as Gene’s whole demeanor changed. “Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be upstairs helping Temple out with some strategizing,” Gene turned and left Simmons to his thoughts.

_ No one needs a Grif. _

“No, you’re wrong.”

_ No one needs a Grif. _

“You just don’t understand.”

_ No one needs a Grif. _

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

**_No one needs a Grif._ **

Simmons looked up, staring into an empty section of the base, listening to the water drip down.

“He’s right.”

“No one needs a Grif.”


	2. Beacon of a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @Secretlystephaniebrown on Tumblr: "The Triplets learn that Wash is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing the Triplets, this one came pretty easily to me. I get it, it's short. Sorry 'bout that.

It had been a normal day.  Emphasis on  _ had _ .

“What do you mean, he’s dying?” Ohio was sick of the constant headache that was her partners.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Idaho started, “a recovery beacon just popped up,” Ohio looked at the device being shoved into her hands, “he doesn’t look good, Ohio.” Wash’s vitals were down, as were Carolina’s (though the Triplets were never particularly close to the teal/cyan/blue-ish green Freelancer).

“Is there any way we can use this to track his location?” Idaho looked down at the tablet.

“Oh course we can, but we don’t have any way to get to him, especially not in time to help in any way,” Idaho tapped away at the recovery beacon.

“Then send it to another Freelancer, Washington was always so nice to everyone,” Ohio insisted, “surely someone will pick it up, I’m sure he would’ve made friends with everyone in the project.”

“Ohio, the project was shut down years ago.  Even if someone was still using their old armor and still getting these alerts, they probably won’t be close enough to respond,” Idaho placed a hand on her shoulder gently.  The two stood there in silence for a while, embracing the ever-chilling sound of the wind.

“He was the only one to ever be nice to us fuck-ups,” she said, quietly.  The sound of loud footsteps drew ever near.

“Um, Ohio?” It was Iowa. “The mean shooty lady from the other base wants to know if we’re going to shoot at them today, she said she’s bored,” Ohio snapped around.

“Tell her I’m trying to have a fucking goddamn moment!” Iowa simply tip-toed away, whistling innocently. “Jesus christ, what does it take to get some peace and quiet around here?” She sighed and looked at the recovery beacon. “There’s nothing we can do,” Idaho noted a great amount of sad certainty in her voice.  Both watched as Wash’s lifelines slowly drained, dipping further and further away from the scarily unhealthy amount until, finally, they hit flatline.  There was no noise, nothing abruptly telling them ‘oh, by the way, he’s dead now’.  He was just gone, one minute there and, the next, not. “We never got to say goodbye,” Idaho glanced over, watching Ohio stare out at the mountains, “to him, to the other Freelancers, to...well, anyone.” Ohio closed her eyes, sitting down slowly, hoping that, wherever Wash had ended up, he had been happy until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is a prompt from RiaTheDreamer: "Gene convinces Simmons that no one needs a Grif."  
> Thanks for the prompt, I hope you enjoyed that!


End file.
